


Opportunity Knocks

by orphan_account



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 13:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1228870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A joke fic for some new friends.</p><p>I'm so sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Opportunity Knocks

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so we were having a Hannibal S1 livestream and somehow Hannidoor became a Thing and then I said I'd write fic, so.
> 
> Here it is.
> 
> Again, I am so sorry.

It was hard, in more than one way, to sit across from what he had come to think of as _his_ door all day, every day. It would just stand there, demurely closed or invitingly open, and Hannibal would find himself distracted from the banalities of his patients or his scheduling by its perfect wood construction and shining knob. Oh, to be the hand upon that knob again! It was all he could do to keep from bounding up in the middle of a session just to feel its weight against his palm. But Hannibal considered himself a professional, and he would wait until they were alone.

He dismissed Will from that night's conversation with more brusqueness than he, perhaps, would have liked, but under the circumstances he could not help it. Will was his last appointment of the night, and now, his time was his own. As was his door.

"I have dreamed about you," he whispered into its walnut frame. "The perfect sheen of your wood under a coat of fresh wax...your knob expertly polished..." He could speak no more, and threw himself against its sturdy construction. "So solid," he breathed.

The door did not respond, as it was a door.

He ran his hands down its smooth length, feeling the indentations of its ornamentation. He put his right hand on the doorknob, warming it with his palm before turning it. Slow and first, then faster. The hinges creaked as he pushed at the door while turning its knob at rapid speed. They both began to breathe heavily, or would have, were one participant not a slab of wood that served to allow entry and exit to Hannibal's office.

It seemed too soon after it began that it ended, and Hannibal's lust for his silent companion was sated again. He slumped down against it for a brief moment before adjusting his suit and tie and leaving the office, only to find there was someone in his waiting room.

"Oh, uh. Hi, Doctor," says Will Graham, standing there looking rather embarrassed. "I, uh, forgot my bag in your office."

Hannibal looks through the now-open door to see that Will's briefcase is, indeed, leaning against his chair.

"I can go, if you want. It sounded like you might have been ... _busy_ , but I wasn't sure if I should come back or wait and then you came out here..." He trails off.

"Do not be embarrassed, Will," he tells him, walking back into the office area to retrieve the bag. He suppresses a shudder as he passes under the lintel. "I will see you on Tuesday."

"Yeah, not unless I have another freak-out before then," he says. "Thanks."

As he watches Will leave, he finds himself weighing the option of killing him a bit sooner than expected.


End file.
